


A Part of the Narrative

by Daleks_Demigods_and_Dementors



Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Accidental Time Travel, Eliza being a sweet mom to the Newsies, I'm already in the middle of like four or five other fics, Medda and Eliza are not shipped they're bffs but I won't hate if you take it another way, Platonic Wives Medda and Eliza, Short Chapters, Slow Updates, but I'll add another one cause I can't stop myself, chapters in single scenes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:09:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29773890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daleks_Demigods_and_Dementors/pseuds/Daleks_Demigods_and_Dementors
Summary: Eliza Hamilton winds up 95 years in the future after grieving the death of her late husband Alexander. She is taken in by a local performer, the beloved Medda Larkin, and finds love and hope again in looking after the local Newsies.
Kudos: 3





	1. Look At Where We Are

**Author's Note:**

> I just started writing this about half an hour ago but I already promised someone on Pinterest that I would pull through so I'll put this up in hopes someone will actually read it. Inspired by the Pinterest post that I have already forgotten how to link and my conversation with "Katie G." in the comments section of said post.

Eliza had barely put her husband in the ground when she started spending all her time at Trinity Church. She sobbed, and prayed, and begged for a new life. She had lost her pride and reputation, then her son, her sister, and now her husband in only a handful of years. Her whole world had turned upside down. She couldn't take it. Every waking moment, she spent praying at the church, begging God to shake her life, and give her something to live for again.

She thought, perhaps, she could use what sway her name and reputation had left to build a monument for President Washington. Perhaps she could build a private orphanage, to save other lost children just like Alexander. That thought stuck with her. She prayed endlessly for God to move her to where she could be in most service for the poor and troubled youth of New York. She prayed night and day, more than once nearly forgetting to leave before the sun set.

One evening, she fell asleep near the altar, mid-prayer.

When she awoke, she rushed out into the morning light, but something was definitely wrong. She awoke to a very different New York than she fell asleep to.

A small boy with a crutch passed by, and stopped for a moment to look her up and down before addressing her. "Excuse me miss, buy a pape from a poor orphan boy?"

Trying to shake the chill that was slowly creeping into her bones, Eliza reached for the small bag of coins she had taken to keeping on her person for purposes such as this. "Of course, dear, how much?" She only realized after the words fell out of her mouth that she wasn't quite sure what a 'pape' might be, but if she could spare a little for this ragged and hungry-looking young boy, it would be worth it.

"None but a penny, ma'am. Thanks much." He pocketed the coin when she handed it over, but for some reason he didn't quite feel like he should move along just yet.

Eliza, finally getting her hands on the newspaper—now she understood where the word 'pape' had come from, though she'd never heard of a newspaper referred to as one—peered over the front page, taking it all in. Something about a 'Trolley Strike' beginning the day before. She had never heard of a trolley, but according to the picture it looked like a giant carriage without horses. Just thinking about how that could be possible made her head spin. Everything felt so different, so... wrong. It was like she woke up in another country. She couldn't possibly have forgotten a whole ship ride to London, could she?

Then, it caught her eye. The date at the top of the paper.

July 3rd, 1899.


	2. The Greatest City in the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliza really just needs a nap. It's time to introduce her to Team Mom #2.

“Excuse me miss,” the paper boy muttered, “are you alright? You don’t look like you’s from around here.”

Eliza barely tore her eyes from the paper to look up at the boy, and then the world around her. The street seemed too clean, the sun too bright. Nobody, not a single person, was dressed like they were supposed to be. None of them were dressed like her, in fact some of the women seemed practically naked in comparison. Immediately, she reasoned she must be deeply immersed in some sort of fever dream. The sinking feeling in her gut surely pointed her in that direction.

She took her head in her hands, suddenly feeling light headed. “No, I… I’m sorry, I don’t—”

“Perhaps I could accompany you back to the theatre?”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, I just assumed, since the way you’re dressed,” he stumbled, “I thought you might be here for the show? I know Medda brings in some ladies from other places every once in a while, is that it?”

Eliza couldn’t wrap her head around what was happening, and certainly didn’t have the wherewithal to answer him. She opened her mouth, but no words would come out.

He steamrolled right over her. “Have you met Medda yet?”

“Erm… no,” she managed to mumble, “I don’t know this… Medda.”

The boy smiled bright, as if he’d brought the sunshine right down from the sky to share with her. “Oh, you’ll love Miss Medda,” he gushed, “she’s a gem. So good to us boys, and the whole community, really. She treats us like kings.”

Despite herself, Eliza smiled right along with him. The way his eyes lit up brought a little joy to her heart. Head still spinning, she followed him through the bright, crowded streets, listening intently to his many commendations of Miss Medda Larkin and the occasional interjections of landmarks a lady who’s new to New York might need to know, as well as some stories to go along with it. Eliza recognized a lot of the landmarks, remembering her days as a young woman when she would roam these same streets with her sisters, but many of them were unfamiliar. Each of them grand and new, however, when seen through the eyes of her tour guide.

By the time they reached the theatre, Eliza had got her head on straight enough to realize this might not be a dream. She had definitely pinched herself enough to rule out that solution But no matter what it was, she had the sense to pretend she belonged until she could figure it out.

Walking inside the doors, Eliza could only gape. Sure, she had been to theatres before—that was one of the perks of having a father and husband in politics—but Medda’s space was huge. Garish fabrics lined the floors and draped on the walls, bright colors swarmed all around her. Light shone from every corner from some form of shape that couldn’t possibly be a candle. A grand staircase rose up in front of her, wide and demanding reverence, like the entrance to a church.

“She’s probably in a dressing room,” the boy said, leading her from the foyer down another extravagant hallway. “I’ll just drop ya off, then I gotta get back to the street. These papes don’t sell themselves, ya know!” He looked up at her with a bright smile, devoid of any bitterness or sarcasm.

It warmed her heart. “I’m sure, dear. Thank you so much.”

After a few minutes of walking, they found themselves in a small landing deep within the theatre. The boy hobbled up to a door that read “Medda” and knocked.

“Just a moment!” called a voice from inside. Eliza was relieved to hear it belonged to a grown woman… perhaps she could really help Eliza understand what was going on here.

As soon as Medda stepped out of the room, Eliza almost gasped in awe. Fabrics she had only ever seen on the wealthiest of wives hugged Medda’s figure tightly. As soon as she saw the boy, her face lit up with the grandest smile.

“Crutchie, dearest!” her voice boomed, going in for a big hug. “What brings you by? Shouldn’t you be out selling this time of day?”

The boy, apparently called Crutchie—Eliza wondered how she had been so rude as not to have asked—gestured over to Eliza. “Just thought I’d bring her by. But I should get going. Nice to see ya Medda!”

“Nice to see you, my boy, thank you.” She waved as he made his way back toward the entrance.

Now Eliza was alone with the woman. Her head was still swimming with hundreds of thoughts… but most of them were of how much she wished Alexander were here. Thoughts of her husband took over her mind, and before she knew it, she was blinking tears from her eyes and shaking.

“Please,” Eliza heard herself say, words falling from her mouth before she even knew what was coming. “I’m so lost. I don’t know what’s happening here. Can I just… lie down?”

Medda looked the woman up and down, and her face immediately fell.

“Sweetheart, you can stay as long as you like.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for getting this far! Let me know how I'm doing with your comments and kudos!


End file.
